Sunday, October 28

sometimes

sometimes she talks about angels

tells me everything right down to their wings

sometimes she talks of the darkness

other times she quietly sings

sometimes she sits quietly counting

laying out the tasks of her day

sometimes i weep for her in silence

never knowing just what to say

sometimes the world surrounds her

and i fear my arms aren't enough

sometimes i think that i've lost her

but sometimes she thinks too much

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